Sliver of Time

By Kota Neelima

It is a thin layer of memory. Out of place in present. Too early for future. Too late for past. It is easy to confuse the past with the future because both meet for a moment in the present. But how is one to know that this moment is indeed the present, if it is already passing on into the past?

The synapse of memory in the brain is already forming for this passing moment. But what if the moment is frozen now, before it turns future into past? It will be a very thin layer of memory. Of clouds before they become waves. Of lotuses before they return to the depth. Of waters resting before they turn into rain.

Of that layer of time which exists only for one heart beat. In the next beat, it would have formed a memory, unchangeable, forever. But for now, it belongs neither to present, past nor future. It does not even belong to time. In time, however, it will be finally lost. Here is that precious layer of memory in paintings and photographs, colours and pigments, the only means pure enough to qualify for this momentary mischief. For, it is a moment stolen from time.